Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever (1 Cor. 9:25).
Last week my wife was out of town. My kids were out of school. Those factors alone would have made for an interesting Monday. Add to that the torrential rains that fell for most of that day, and my parental creativity was stretched to the limits.
So I opted not to be creative. We went to a Chick-fil-a and a movie, bringing along a couple of their friends so as to minimize the potential for sibling bickering that rainy days inevitably bring about.
The cheap-seat dollar theater was playing one of my favorite films from this past summer, the animated feature UP. I had seen the movie back in June, but I loved it then and knew it would easily be worth the $1.50 ticket price. And as for exactly why the “dollar theater” charges $1.50 for tickets, I have no idea. It’s still a deal.
UP tells the story of a man’s life and a dream that stands at the center of his life. The drama begins with his boyhood fascination with adventure and his love for a tom-boyish girl who becomes his wife and shares his love for adventure. They have a dream that is captured by a painting she places over their fireplace – a picture of their house at the top of Paradise Falls.
The years go by. Life happens. Paradise Falls never does. Until one day, elderly and alone, this man – Mr. Fredrickson – eludes those who wish to place him in a retirement home by taking his house aloft with thousands of balloons. He drifts to South America to pursue a dream that he and his dear Ellie never had a chance to pursue together.
Eventually he manages to place his floating house at the top of the Falls, just like Ellie painted many years earlier. As for how that comes about, you’ll have to turn lose of $1.50 and go see for yourself. It’s a great story – but the real drama isn’t in getting the house to the Falls.
Once there, Mr. Fredrickson realizes that the picture he had over his fireplace, the one he had held in his mind and heart for all those years really wasn’t the dream after all. The real dream was simply his life – all the small moments that had made up his life. That was the adventure.
Or to use Paul’s language, that was the real race.
Most of us live with a finish line somewhere in our heads. We have an idea, a picture of where w will be and what we will be doing and what life will look like when we know we’ve “won.” The finish line can be about what we achieve professionally or what we attain materially or how many candles we manage to gather on top of the birthday cake. For some the finish line is a large crowd of children and grandchildren who come back home for holiday meals at a long family table. And of course, many of us live with all of those finish lines in front of us.
While Paul speaks of the crown we receive when the race is won, many commentators understand Paul’s focus to be on the race itself – the running, the discipline. Paul is not telling the Corinthians, or us, to simply finish the race, but to run it well.
The grace is in the running. Sometimes our preoccupation with the finish line keeps us from truly enjoying the race and embracing all that it means to run hard and run well. Paul seems to suggest that when we run hard and run well, the finish line will take care of itself.
What finish lines do you hold in your mind today? Are you enjoying the run and living the adventure?
Prayer:
Gracious God, every day is a chance to train for the race. And every day, in very ordinary ways, we run the race to which you have called us. Grant us the grace to both train well and run well. Show us the joy that you have for us on the course, and not simply at the finish. Amen.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Race
Run in such a way as to get the prize (1 Cor. 9:24).
This past weekend was homecoming at Wake Forest University.
I didn’t attend Wake Forest. I was there this weekend by virtue of marriage. I’m an alum-in-law, if there can be such a thing. I walked the campus with my wife and kids, met some people she hadn’t seen in a long time, listened to things she remembered about how the place was back in her day and how this or that has been changed or renovated or removed altogether.
As we walked the campus I also listened to my son talk about what he would be doing when he goes there (my daughter is holding out for UNC). That won’t be until the fall of 2016 but the very prospect of it is enough to wake me screaming in the night.
The memories there were not mine. I didn’t know anyone we saw on campus – but I have a sense of connection to that place that’s hard to define.
My Dad is a graduate of Wake Forest. He attended the school when it was actually located in the town of Wake Forest. The campus re-located to Winston-Salem and my Dad did his senior year at the new location. In the meantime the “old” campus became a Baptist seminary, so after graduating from WFU in Winston-Salem my dad went back to his college campus to attend seminary.
Walking the campus this weekend, I felt like the story of my life is somehow connected to that place. I never took a single credit hour there, but the institution played a role in shaping me. The school was established in 1834 to train preachers for Baptist churches in North Carolina. One of the Baptist preachers they ended up training was my father.
********
The New Testament is fond of athletic metaphors for the Christian life. Among them, “the race” enjoys favored status.
Paul uses the image one of his letters to Timothy and in his letter to the Galatians. The metaphor is used as Paul addresses the elders in Ephesus in the book of Acts, and the writer to the Hebrews makes use of it also.
To live life as a follower of Jesus is to run a race – and Paul told the Corinthians to run hard, to “run in such a way as to get the prize.” But how do we do that? How do we win this race?
One answer surely has to do with receiving the eternal “well done” when this life is finished. We live faithfully and do what we’re given to do here to the best of our ability. We use our gifts in the service of the God who gave them to us – and then when we cross the finish line of earthly life we are rewarded with the Master’s commendation and eternity in the Master’s presence.
But maybe there’s more to the race than that. Perhaps the race is much bigger than my own little piece of the course. I may be reading things into Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 9, but I’m certain this has to be true.
Our task is to run well while we’re here – and make sure that when we’ve finished the course set out for us there are others behind us with fresh strength to keep running. I think that’s what I sensed on the campus of a college I never attended. I felt my feet walking a piece of the course that wasn’t mine to run, but which nevertheless belongs to a race that I’m competing in. Together, we make up an enormous relay team.
I want to run well – so that someday in 2016, if and when my son walks the campus of WFU, he won’t simply be going to college. He’ll be running a race that his Mom and his grandfather ran on that very course. And hopefully he’ll sense me running with him too.
Prayer:
Give us strength to run our course well today, O God. And make us aware that there are others yet to run behind us. Use our lives now to shape the race that they will run then, to the glory of your name and the building up of your rule among us. Amen.
This past weekend was homecoming at Wake Forest University.
I didn’t attend Wake Forest. I was there this weekend by virtue of marriage. I’m an alum-in-law, if there can be such a thing. I walked the campus with my wife and kids, met some people she hadn’t seen in a long time, listened to things she remembered about how the place was back in her day and how this or that has been changed or renovated or removed altogether.
As we walked the campus I also listened to my son talk about what he would be doing when he goes there (my daughter is holding out for UNC). That won’t be until the fall of 2016 but the very prospect of it is enough to wake me screaming in the night.
The memories there were not mine. I didn’t know anyone we saw on campus – but I have a sense of connection to that place that’s hard to define.
My Dad is a graduate of Wake Forest. He attended the school when it was actually located in the town of Wake Forest. The campus re-located to Winston-Salem and my Dad did his senior year at the new location. In the meantime the “old” campus became a Baptist seminary, so after graduating from WFU in Winston-Salem my dad went back to his college campus to attend seminary.
Walking the campus this weekend, I felt like the story of my life is somehow connected to that place. I never took a single credit hour there, but the institution played a role in shaping me. The school was established in 1834 to train preachers for Baptist churches in North Carolina. One of the Baptist preachers they ended up training was my father.
********
Paul uses the image one of his letters to Timothy and in his letter to the Galatians. The metaphor is used as Paul addresses the elders in Ephesus in the book of Acts, and the writer to the Hebrews makes use of it also.
To live life as a follower of Jesus is to run a race – and Paul told the Corinthians to run hard, to “run in such a way as to get the prize.” But how do we do that? How do we win this race?
One answer surely has to do with receiving the eternal “well done” when this life is finished. We live faithfully and do what we’re given to do here to the best of our ability. We use our gifts in the service of the God who gave them to us – and then when we cross the finish line of earthly life we are rewarded with the Master’s commendation and eternity in the Master’s presence.
But maybe there’s more to the race than that. Perhaps the race is much bigger than my own little piece of the course. I may be reading things into Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 9, but I’m certain this has to be true.
Our task is to run well while we’re here – and make sure that when we’ve finished the course set out for us there are others behind us with fresh strength to keep running. I think that’s what I sensed on the campus of a college I never attended. I felt my feet walking a piece of the course that wasn’t mine to run, but which nevertheless belongs to a race that I’m competing in. Together, we make up an enormous relay team.
I want to run well – so that someday in 2016, if and when my son walks the campus of WFU, he won’t simply be going to college. He’ll be running a race that his Mom and his grandfather ran on that very course. And hopefully he’ll sense me running with him too.
Prayer:
Give us strength to run our course well today, O God. And make us aware that there are others yet to run behind us. Use our lives now to shape the race that they will run then, to the glory of your name and the building up of your rule among us. Amen.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
When Wisdom Says "Let Go"
For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight (1 Cor. 3:19).
“Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.” (Genesis 22:12)
There are things we cherish in this life. Good things. Our hearts knit to these things so that we cannot imagine life without them.
We can’t imagine life without our family, the children that wear us out or the spouse that continues to surprise us or the parents we once rebelled against. We can’t imagine life without meaningful work and the challenges and rewards that come with it. We can’t imagine life without the capacity to see the sky or walk on our own legs or swallow prime rib.
But sometimes we are asked to live without those things. We pay lip service to these things as “gifts’ or “blessings.” But when asked to give them up we feel angry and cheated, deprived of what was rightfully ours. We clutch at the gift and resent the giver.
Sometimes, however, wisdom asks us to let go.
********
The story is simple and yet almost impossible to understand. After much waiting and a few messes along the way, Abraham and Sarah had received the child promised to them. Sarah had laughed at the idea that such a thing would ever happen. But it did. The boy was born and named Isaac, meaning “laughter.” This boy was the long awaited fulfillment of a promise that had exceeded their capacity to believe.
And then we get a divine bait and switch. After all the waiting and messes, God appears ready to scrub the whole plan. God asks Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. Go up on a mountain, place the boy on an altar, raise the knife, and give back what you waited so long to receive. Here’s the reward for your patient faith: sacrifice your child.
We’re stunned and even angry about this. Amazingly Abraham goes. It has been noted that the only time Abraham speaks in this story is to present himself obediently to God. ”Here I am,” he says. That’s it. “Here I am.” He listens and obeys, walking up a hill with his son, his only son (a significant phrase in the story) planning all the while to do what we could never dream of doing.
********
Abraham’s story has the kind of ending we always hope for. The tragedy is averted. Abraham raises the blade above his son but his hand is stayed, Isaac is spared, and God provides a ram for the sacrifice. They all go home together happy and relieved. But there’s nothing in this story that says our willingness to let go means that we will eventually be allowed to keep what we so deeply cherish.
Too many parents have wept over the grave of a child. Too many competent and capable people have been told they no longer have a job. Too many strong and able-bodied people have been incapacitated. Sometimes we let go and we are left empty handed.
This is foolishness to us. Maybe that’s why Paul quotes Isaiah 40:13 in his discussion about God’s wisdom and how it runs counter to our wisdom. “Who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct him?”
Sometimes wisdom asks us to stand before God with open hands and say what Abraham said. “Here I am.” This means we hold every gift as just that, a gift: Our health, our work, our loved ones. All of it comes to us by grace. The world’s wisdom says that we have a right to these things. God’s wisdom asks us to offer them up – always careful never to worship the gift above the giver.
What are you being asked to let go of today?
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for every gift you place in our life. Make us mindful today of what we cherish, and help us to cherish it rightly – ever thankful, humble before you, never allowing your gift to become a god that rivals your place in our heart. We would live every day with this simple prayer: “Here I am.” Amen.
“Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.” (Genesis 22:12)
There are things we cherish in this life. Good things. Our hearts knit to these things so that we cannot imagine life without them.
We can’t imagine life without our family, the children that wear us out or the spouse that continues to surprise us or the parents we once rebelled against. We can’t imagine life without meaningful work and the challenges and rewards that come with it. We can’t imagine life without the capacity to see the sky or walk on our own legs or swallow prime rib.
But sometimes we are asked to live without those things. We pay lip service to these things as “gifts’ or “blessings.” But when asked to give them up we feel angry and cheated, deprived of what was rightfully ours. We clutch at the gift and resent the giver.
Sometimes, however, wisdom asks us to let go.
********
The story is simple and yet almost impossible to understand. After much waiting and a few messes along the way, Abraham and Sarah had received the child promised to them. Sarah had laughed at the idea that such a thing would ever happen. But it did. The boy was born and named Isaac, meaning “laughter.” This boy was the long awaited fulfillment of a promise that had exceeded their capacity to believe.
And then we get a divine bait and switch. After all the waiting and messes, God appears ready to scrub the whole plan. God asks Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. Go up on a mountain, place the boy on an altar, raise the knife, and give back what you waited so long to receive. Here’s the reward for your patient faith: sacrifice your child.
We’re stunned and even angry about this. Amazingly Abraham goes. It has been noted that the only time Abraham speaks in this story is to present himself obediently to God. ”Here I am,” he says. That’s it. “Here I am.” He listens and obeys, walking up a hill with his son, his only son (a significant phrase in the story) planning all the while to do what we could never dream of doing.
********
Abraham’s story has the kind of ending we always hope for. The tragedy is averted. Abraham raises the blade above his son but his hand is stayed, Isaac is spared, and God provides a ram for the sacrifice. They all go home together happy and relieved. But there’s nothing in this story that says our willingness to let go means that we will eventually be allowed to keep what we so deeply cherish.
Too many parents have wept over the grave of a child. Too many competent and capable people have been told they no longer have a job. Too many strong and able-bodied people have been incapacitated. Sometimes we let go and we are left empty handed.
This is foolishness to us. Maybe that’s why Paul quotes Isaiah 40:13 in his discussion about God’s wisdom and how it runs counter to our wisdom. “Who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct him?”
Sometimes wisdom asks us to stand before God with open hands and say what Abraham said. “Here I am.” This means we hold every gift as just that, a gift: Our health, our work, our loved ones. All of it comes to us by grace. The world’s wisdom says that we have a right to these things. God’s wisdom asks us to offer them up – always careful never to worship the gift above the giver.
What are you being asked to let go of today?
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for every gift you place in our life. Make us mindful today of what we cherish, and help us to cherish it rightly – ever thankful, humble before you, never allowing your gift to become a god that rivals your place in our heart. We would live every day with this simple prayer: “Here I am.” Amen.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
When Wisdom Says "Wait"
For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight (1 Cor. 3:19).
The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my maidservant. Perhaps I can build a family through her (Genesis 16:2).
Our admiration is drawn toward those who know how to make things happen. People who make things happen get promoted and praised. Schooled in the world’s wisdom, we are inclined to be proactive, to take initiative. Knowing how to make things happen is an indispensable quality of leadership.
But sometimes in our drive to make things happen we end up making a mess. We run out of patience and we run over people. Our efforts to shake things up leave a trail of pieces that have to be put back in place. Maybe God never asked us to make things happen.
Sometimes wisdom says “wait.”
********
It looked as if Eliezer of Damascus would get it all. The estate, such as it was, would go to him. That didn’t seem like such tragedy to Abraham. Eliezer had been a faithful servant in Abraham’s household. Given that Abraham and Sarah had no children, it seemed only right that Eliezer would be the heir. Law and custom deemed in fitting.
But there was one thing that bothered Abraham about this, nagged at him and wouldn’t leave him alone. It was God’s promise. Abraham wondered at times if he had gotten it wrong, but he kept coming back to the same answer: No. He knew what God had said. God had said that Abraham and Sarah would have their own child. In fact, Abraham and Sarah would have a family that would in turn give rise to more families.
God confirmed the promise. “A son from your own body will be your heir.”
Great. Only one problem. Abraham and Sarah were old. Really old. Knowing this, Sarah decided to make things happen. She took the initiative, giving her maidservant Hagar to Abraham. “Perhaps I can build a family through her.”
In that culture what Sarah did made sense. It was legal, and what’s more, it was effective. Hagar conceived a son, Ishmael. The problem, however, is that God had never asked Sarah to build a family. That was never her job to do. Sarah made things happen and in doing so she made herself and Abraham miserable. She despised Hagar and the child she bore. What Sarah really made was a mess.
********
Few things are harder for us than waiting.
The wisdom of the age is informed by pragmatic concerns. We know what needs to happen. If we can see a way to obtain the desired outcome by means that are both legal and effective, then we should act. Not to act is to be passive and to be passive is to be weak. And, again, the wisdom of this world holds no place for weakness.
But maybe there are times when wisdom – God’s wisdom – says “wait.”
We need to be careful here because a falsely spiritualized kind of “waiting” can be used as a cover for laziness. Mixing our “waiting” with a little God-talk can be a way of avoiding responsibility or refusing to take a risk.
But rightly practiced waiting is a bold expression of trust. It is God’s wisdom, taking the spotlight off of our efforts and skills and plans. God shows our wisdom to be foolishness so that no one may boast. Holy waiting is the means by which we get out of the way and trust God to do what God has promised to do.
When we will not wait, it usually has to do with our fears, and fear is contrary to faith. Those fears lead us to take the wrong job just to get a paycheck, marry the wrong person just to avoid being alone, spend money we don’t really have because we don’t think a deal like that will ever come along again. Fear makes it hard to wait.
Are you taking actions today, making things happen, that are fear-driven? What would happen if you listened to the wisdom that says “wait?”
Prayer:
Give us the grace, O God, to wait on you and your promises. Grant us discerning minds and hearts that we might know when to act. Grant us courage to wait, guarding us from decisions and actions that are driven by fear and not faith. Amen.
The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my maidservant. Perhaps I can build a family through her (Genesis 16:2).
Our admiration is drawn toward those who know how to make things happen. People who make things happen get promoted and praised. Schooled in the world’s wisdom, we are inclined to be proactive, to take initiative. Knowing how to make things happen is an indispensable quality of leadership.
But sometimes in our drive to make things happen we end up making a mess. We run out of patience and we run over people. Our efforts to shake things up leave a trail of pieces that have to be put back in place. Maybe God never asked us to make things happen.
Sometimes wisdom says “wait.”
********
It looked as if Eliezer of Damascus would get it all. The estate, such as it was, would go to him. That didn’t seem like such tragedy to Abraham. Eliezer had been a faithful servant in Abraham’s household. Given that Abraham and Sarah had no children, it seemed only right that Eliezer would be the heir. Law and custom deemed in fitting.
But there was one thing that bothered Abraham about this, nagged at him and wouldn’t leave him alone. It was God’s promise. Abraham wondered at times if he had gotten it wrong, but he kept coming back to the same answer: No. He knew what God had said. God had said that Abraham and Sarah would have their own child. In fact, Abraham and Sarah would have a family that would in turn give rise to more families.
God confirmed the promise. “A son from your own body will be your heir.”
Great. Only one problem. Abraham and Sarah were old. Really old. Knowing this, Sarah decided to make things happen. She took the initiative, giving her maidservant Hagar to Abraham. “Perhaps I can build a family through her.”
In that culture what Sarah did made sense. It was legal, and what’s more, it was effective. Hagar conceived a son, Ishmael. The problem, however, is that God had never asked Sarah to build a family. That was never her job to do. Sarah made things happen and in doing so she made herself and Abraham miserable. She despised Hagar and the child she bore. What Sarah really made was a mess.
********
Few things are harder for us than waiting.
The wisdom of the age is informed by pragmatic concerns. We know what needs to happen. If we can see a way to obtain the desired outcome by means that are both legal and effective, then we should act. Not to act is to be passive and to be passive is to be weak. And, again, the wisdom of this world holds no place for weakness.
But maybe there are times when wisdom – God’s wisdom – says “wait.”
We need to be careful here because a falsely spiritualized kind of “waiting” can be used as a cover for laziness. Mixing our “waiting” with a little God-talk can be a way of avoiding responsibility or refusing to take a risk.
But rightly practiced waiting is a bold expression of trust. It is God’s wisdom, taking the spotlight off of our efforts and skills and plans. God shows our wisdom to be foolishness so that no one may boast. Holy waiting is the means by which we get out of the way and trust God to do what God has promised to do.
When we will not wait, it usually has to do with our fears, and fear is contrary to faith. Those fears lead us to take the wrong job just to get a paycheck, marry the wrong person just to avoid being alone, spend money we don’t really have because we don’t think a deal like that will ever come along again. Fear makes it hard to wait.
Are you taking actions today, making things happen, that are fear-driven? What would happen if you listened to the wisdom that says “wait?”
Prayer:
Give us the grace, O God, to wait on you and your promises. Grant us discerning minds and hearts that we might know when to act. Grant us courage to wait, guarding us from decisions and actions that are driven by fear and not faith. Amen.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
When Wisdom says "Simplify"
For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight (1 Cor. 3:19).
The Lord said to Gideon, “You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands” (Judges 7:2).
Schooled in the wisdom of this world we work hard to accumulate things. Our aspirations and ambitions are generally shaped by more, bigger, better. We not only work hard to gather and grow, we work hard to work hard. To be busy is to be important. To be constantly sought after is proof of competence and worth.
But in the rare still moment we sense that the busier we get and the more we accumulate, the emptier we feel. Exhausted and glutted we wonder what’s missing.
Sometimes wisdom says “simplify.”
********
Gideon wasn’t stupid. Israel was being oppressed by the Midianites, a ravenous enemy whose terrorist-type tactics involved attacking the food supply. Like a swarm of locusts, they would strike during planting season, destroying crops.
Gideon, exercising good common sense, had taken to threshing his wheat in the confines of a winepress. He was hiding his stuff from the enemy, protecting his assets, guarding what was his. He was living his life defensively because times were hard. That’s when an angel came and appeared to Gideon and commissioned him to raise an army and deliver Israel from Midian.
Gideon obeyed, but cautiously. He asked for signs of God’s presence and favor and God patiently complied. Eventually Gideon amassed an army of 32,000 men.
Having gathered Israel’s strength at full capacity, Gideon was given the battle plan. “You have too many men.” For Gideon to fight at full strength meant that Israel might boast; the people might begin to think that their own strength had won the day.
So God told Gideon to divest, downsize, get small – and then go to battle. With a small army, Israel would come to know the size and might of their God
********
We much prefer to live life at the full capacity of our strength: our full earning potential, our complete health, our maximum influence. For most of us the aim of life is to maximize and the key to living well is to maximize even more.
But sometimes wisdom says, “You have too much.”
We have too much stuff, and we worry about protecting it, insuring it, keeping it safe. We have too much to do, and we run ourselves into the ground keeping up with it all, meeting demands and expectations, pleasing superiors and managing those not-so-superior. We have too many options and we feel bored with all of them.
But the world in its wisdom applauds us. God’s wisdom says to slow down and strip down. Simplify. With less of us and our stuff and our agenda, there’s more of God. God removes our sense of pride, takes away our reason for boasting, and invites us to live by grace. But living by grace is foolishness to the world. Living by and for anything else is foolishness to God.
What would it mean today for you to simplify?
Prayer:
You must increase, O God. We must decrease. Make us bold like Gideon and help us to obey you, trusting you rather than what we have. Looking you o you for our identity rather than our tasks or careers. Be large in our living today as we seek to simplify and become small in simple acts of service and obedience. Amen.
The Lord said to Gideon, “You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands” (Judges 7:2).
Schooled in the wisdom of this world we work hard to accumulate things. Our aspirations and ambitions are generally shaped by more, bigger, better. We not only work hard to gather and grow, we work hard to work hard. To be busy is to be important. To be constantly sought after is proof of competence and worth.
But in the rare still moment we sense that the busier we get and the more we accumulate, the emptier we feel. Exhausted and glutted we wonder what’s missing.
Sometimes wisdom says “simplify.”
********
Gideon, exercising good common sense, had taken to threshing his wheat in the confines of a winepress. He was hiding his stuff from the enemy, protecting his assets, guarding what was his. He was living his life defensively because times were hard. That’s when an angel came and appeared to Gideon and commissioned him to raise an army and deliver Israel from Midian.
Gideon obeyed, but cautiously. He asked for signs of God’s presence and favor and God patiently complied. Eventually Gideon amassed an army of 32,000 men.
Having gathered Israel’s strength at full capacity, Gideon was given the battle plan. “You have too many men.” For Gideon to fight at full strength meant that Israel might boast; the people might begin to think that their own strength had won the day.
So God told Gideon to divest, downsize, get small – and then go to battle. With a small army, Israel would come to know the size and might of their God
********
We much prefer to live life at the full capacity of our strength: our full earning potential, our complete health, our maximum influence. For most of us the aim of life is to maximize and the key to living well is to maximize even more.
But sometimes wisdom says, “You have too much.”
We have too much stuff, and we worry about protecting it, insuring it, keeping it safe. We have too much to do, and we run ourselves into the ground keeping up with it all, meeting demands and expectations, pleasing superiors and managing those not-so-superior. We have too many options and we feel bored with all of them.
But the world in its wisdom applauds us. God’s wisdom says to slow down and strip down. Simplify. With less of us and our stuff and our agenda, there’s more of God. God removes our sense of pride, takes away our reason for boasting, and invites us to live by grace. But living by grace is foolishness to the world. Living by and for anything else is foolishness to God.
What would it mean today for you to simplify?
Prayer:
You must increase, O God. We must decrease. Make us bold like Gideon and help us to obey you, trusting you rather than what we have. Looking you o you for our identity rather than our tasks or careers. Be large in our living today as we seek to simplify and become small in simple acts of service and obedience. Amen.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Life Received
For I received from the Lord what I passed on to you (1 Cor. 11:23)
What do you have that you did not receive? (1 Cor. 4:7)
I owned a set of dishes before I got married. They were very functional and nearly impossible to break. The bowls, the cups, the plates – everything was made of thick hard plastic. And they were blue. The set was accented with a collection of cups from places like the 7-11 store and various sporting events. I liked my dishes just fine.
Marnie managed to dump all of it once the vows were exchanged.
That didn’t bother me. It wasn’t much of a loss compared to the new stuff that filled the cabinets of our Houston apartment. Marriage improved my lot in life in a number of ways, one of which was drinking from clear glass and eating off of matching plates adorned with an artistic pattern – something other than the words “Big Gulp” stamped on the outside of the vessel.
When Marnie and I married we lived in Houston. However, our wedding was here in Atlanta. A week or so after the wedding it was my job to drive back to Texas with a car full of wedding gifts. The word full isn’t quite adequate. There was hardly a square inch of free space in our white ‘94 Honda Accord. Just enough room for the driver and whatever space was required to make breathing possible.
One of the great things about early married life – at least for us – is that for a while immediately following the wedding, everything in your home is from someone else. Marnie and I each brought a few items of furniture into our marriage, but most of what we had in our newlywed apartment was given to us. Everything around us reminded us of someone we knew and loved, and who apparently loved us. A set of knives, a coffee maker, a picture frame, a desk lamp or tool box or anything. Every time I handled the gift I thought of who gave it. We were literally surrounded by grace.
And we still are.
********
Paul’s distress with the Corinthians and their careless approach to the Lord’s Supper had to do with the given nature of the meal. Paul made it clear: “I passed on to you what I received.” This meal wasn’t an innovation Paul had introduced to Corinth. It wasn’t a work in progress. It was the Lord’s meal: Given by Jesus and handed down to all believers.
The crisis over the Lord’s Supper came about because certain Corinthians were acting as if the meal was theirs: something for their enjoyment, something to satisfy their appetites, something to host for their closest friends.
When grace was taken out of the meal, grace was also taken from the community itself. Once they forgot that the meal had been given, they no longer knew how to share it.
Everything in your life that truly matters is given to you. There’s nothing of true worth and value that you can look at and say “I deserved that” or “I earned that.” Paul confronted the Corinthians with this truth. “What do you have that you didn’t receive?” The answer is simply “nothing.”
Your family, your health, the sunlight or rain, the green light you barely made, the phone call from someone you haven’t talked to in a long time, the words of affirmation that you never expected, the kiss your daughter placed on the back of your hand. Anything that comes to you and makes you say, “I don’t want to ever forget this; I want to stay in this moment for as long as I possibly can.” Whatever that might be is a gift.
Life is received. It comes by grace. When you forget the grace, life is diminished.
What have you received today and how will that grace shape your living?
Prayer:
Gracious God, thank you for the gift of this day and every other gift that will come with it. Whatever the day brings, I will receive it as from you. Help me to live this day thankfully, surrounded and sustained by your grace, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
What do you have that you did not receive? (1 Cor. 4:7)
I owned a set of dishes before I got married. They were very functional and nearly impossible to break. The bowls, the cups, the plates – everything was made of thick hard plastic. And they were blue. The set was accented with a collection of cups from places like the 7-11 store and various sporting events. I liked my dishes just fine.
Marnie managed to dump all of it once the vows were exchanged.
That didn’t bother me. It wasn’t much of a loss compared to the new stuff that filled the cabinets of our Houston apartment. Marriage improved my lot in life in a number of ways, one of which was drinking from clear glass and eating off of matching plates adorned with an artistic pattern – something other than the words “Big Gulp” stamped on the outside of the vessel.
When Marnie and I married we lived in Houston. However, our wedding was here in Atlanta. A week or so after the wedding it was my job to drive back to Texas with a car full of wedding gifts. The word full isn’t quite adequate. There was hardly a square inch of free space in our white ‘94 Honda Accord. Just enough room for the driver and whatever space was required to make breathing possible.
One of the great things about early married life – at least for us – is that for a while immediately following the wedding, everything in your home is from someone else. Marnie and I each brought a few items of furniture into our marriage, but most of what we had in our newlywed apartment was given to us. Everything around us reminded us of someone we knew and loved, and who apparently loved us. A set of knives, a coffee maker, a picture frame, a desk lamp or tool box or anything. Every time I handled the gift I thought of who gave it. We were literally surrounded by grace.
And we still are.
********
Paul’s distress with the Corinthians and their careless approach to the Lord’s Supper had to do with the given nature of the meal. Paul made it clear: “I passed on to you what I received.” This meal wasn’t an innovation Paul had introduced to Corinth. It wasn’t a work in progress. It was the Lord’s meal: Given by Jesus and handed down to all believers.
The crisis over the Lord’s Supper came about because certain Corinthians were acting as if the meal was theirs: something for their enjoyment, something to satisfy their appetites, something to host for their closest friends.
When grace was taken out of the meal, grace was also taken from the community itself. Once they forgot that the meal had been given, they no longer knew how to share it.
Everything in your life that truly matters is given to you. There’s nothing of true worth and value that you can look at and say “I deserved that” or “I earned that.” Paul confronted the Corinthians with this truth. “What do you have that you didn’t receive?” The answer is simply “nothing.”
Your family, your health, the sunlight or rain, the green light you barely made, the phone call from someone you haven’t talked to in a long time, the words of affirmation that you never expected, the kiss your daughter placed on the back of your hand. Anything that comes to you and makes you say, “I don’t want to ever forget this; I want to stay in this moment for as long as I possibly can.” Whatever that might be is a gift.
Life is received. It comes by grace. When you forget the grace, life is diminished.
What have you received today and how will that grace shape your living?
Prayer:
Gracious God, thank you for the gift of this day and every other gift that will come with it. Whatever the day brings, I will receive it as from you. Help me to live this day thankfully, surrounded and sustained by your grace, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Interruptions and Inconveniences
For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you (1 Cor. 11:23).
Taking the Lord’s Supper hasn’t changed much since I was eight years old. As a general rule it has been a Sunday morning experience, often involving small cubes of Wonder Bread and little cups of Welch’s grape juice passed in silver trays. Honestly, I’ve probably invested more mental energy in not dropping the silver trays than I have in meditating on Jesus’ body and blood.
In the midst of this standard practice, two Lord’s Supper experiences stand out in my mind. One took place at a Promise Keepers conference, a stadium event that gathered thousands of men for worship and teaching and plenty of brotherly admonition to Godly manhood. At Promise Keepers the elements came to us in a little two-unit package. A foil cover would be peeled off of the little plastic cup of grape juice and the smaller compartment that held some kind of unidentifiable bread-like substance. This allowed thousands to be served quickly. No silver trays at Promise Keepers.
The second experience that stands out in my mind was the time I took communion with an Episcopal congregation in Fort Worth, Texas. This was eye-opening for a Baptist seminary student. We walked forward and knelt at a padded rail. The priest gave us a wafer and then we all drank from the same silver cup. I told a nurse about this experience and she was horrified. I explained that the priest wiped the cup with a cloth after every person drank from it. She didn’t care. No way would she do that.
The Promise Keepers experience reminds me that ours is a world that values time and efficiency. The nurse’s reaction to my Episcopal experience reminds me that ours is a world that values the preferences that suit the individual. We share a common meal, but drink from your own cup.
********
When the Corinthians gathered for the Lord’s Supper they were being driven by individual preferences and the efficient use of time. The wealthy folks took what they wanted (preference) and they didn’t sit around waiting for the others to show up (time). Paul had to remind them that the meal wasn’t theirs to do with as they saw fit. This meal was given. “I received from the Lord what I passed on to you.”
We live in a world that encourages and extols two values that are detrimental to the Christian community and the Jesus way of life: Efficient use of time and personal preference or taste. This means that many of us live life in a hurry, and we resent the inconveniences that interfere with our personal preferences. This works well in America – but it presents a challenge for those who follow Jesus.
You may already be planning your day in a way that allows you to use time efficiently and avoid inconvenience. You may already feel rushed. You don’t need anyone getting in the way of what you’ve got to do. But interruptions and inconvenience can be a spiritual discipline in your life. You are invited to receive them, not resent them.
This is hard for us. The Jesus way is not always efficient in its use of time. This way of living welcomes interruptions and lingers long. We prefer to get to the point and then get to the next thing. The Jesus way also means that sometimes I set aside my personal tastes and preferences in deference to another. Sometimes we are called upon to be willingly inconvenienced.
How do you typically respond to interruptions and inconvenience? What would it mean to receive these as God given appointments in your day?
Prayer:
Help us, O God, to receive every experience of this day as divinely appointed. Forgive us for assuming that we control our days, that we truly manage our own time and that all things should work according to our preference and plan. Grant to us a humility that truly seeks to follow where you lead, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Taking the Lord’s Supper hasn’t changed much since I was eight years old. As a general rule it has been a Sunday morning experience, often involving small cubes of Wonder Bread and little cups of Welch’s grape juice passed in silver trays. Honestly, I’ve probably invested more mental energy in not dropping the silver trays than I have in meditating on Jesus’ body and blood.
In the midst of this standard practice, two Lord’s Supper experiences stand out in my mind. One took place at a Promise Keepers conference, a stadium event that gathered thousands of men for worship and teaching and plenty of brotherly admonition to Godly manhood. At Promise Keepers the elements came to us in a little two-unit package. A foil cover would be peeled off of the little plastic cup of grape juice and the smaller compartment that held some kind of unidentifiable bread-like substance. This allowed thousands to be served quickly. No silver trays at Promise Keepers.
The second experience that stands out in my mind was the time I took communion with an Episcopal congregation in Fort Worth, Texas. This was eye-opening for a Baptist seminary student. We walked forward and knelt at a padded rail. The priest gave us a wafer and then we all drank from the same silver cup. I told a nurse about this experience and she was horrified. I explained that the priest wiped the cup with a cloth after every person drank from it. She didn’t care. No way would she do that.
The Promise Keepers experience reminds me that ours is a world that values time and efficiency. The nurse’s reaction to my Episcopal experience reminds me that ours is a world that values the preferences that suit the individual. We share a common meal, but drink from your own cup.
********
When the Corinthians gathered for the Lord’s Supper they were being driven by individual preferences and the efficient use of time. The wealthy folks took what they wanted (preference) and they didn’t sit around waiting for the others to show up (time). Paul had to remind them that the meal wasn’t theirs to do with as they saw fit. This meal was given. “I received from the Lord what I passed on to you.”
We live in a world that encourages and extols two values that are detrimental to the Christian community and the Jesus way of life: Efficient use of time and personal preference or taste. This means that many of us live life in a hurry, and we resent the inconveniences that interfere with our personal preferences. This works well in America – but it presents a challenge for those who follow Jesus.
You may already be planning your day in a way that allows you to use time efficiently and avoid inconvenience. You may already feel rushed. You don’t need anyone getting in the way of what you’ve got to do. But interruptions and inconvenience can be a spiritual discipline in your life. You are invited to receive them, not resent them.
This is hard for us. The Jesus way is not always efficient in its use of time. This way of living welcomes interruptions and lingers long. We prefer to get to the point and then get to the next thing. The Jesus way also means that sometimes I set aside my personal tastes and preferences in deference to another. Sometimes we are called upon to be willingly inconvenienced.
How do you typically respond to interruptions and inconvenience? What would it mean to receive these as God given appointments in your day?
Prayer:
Help us, O God, to receive every experience of this day as divinely appointed. Forgive us for assuming that we control our days, that we truly manage our own time and that all things should work according to our preference and plan. Grant to us a humility that truly seeks to follow where you lead, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
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